Desir'd Heart
by Jeanne M
Summary: Why does Desire play its games?  Perhaps not for the obvious reasons...


Usual: Characters? Not mine. Money? None Being Made. All belongs to them that owns it. I'm not doing any harm that hasn't already been done. This for Luba's 5th anniversary - you have no idea how much we appreciate what you do! (Yes, I know it's late, but you know how the plotbunnies go on strike). That said, ever onwards!  
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Desir'd Heart  
a Jeanne M. production   
  


Through me forbidden voices/Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil/Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd.  
--Walt Whitman  
  


Red.

That is what assaults the senses here. Red. Black. Silk. Heat. Leather. Music. Shadow. Throbbing. This is my domain, my human playground. I got the idea from Lucifer, in a strange sort of way. He really is a brilliant devil. Pun intended. Here, the rules are mine. I set the stage, and watch my humans play out their desires. Some come with my sister-self in their eyes, others have an intimate relationship with the youngest. Still others have my brother's mark upon them, dreamdust encrusted in their skin. A few are devotees of my eldest sister, yearning for her soft embrace. And yet, they all come for one reason.

Me.

They come here searching for me, needing me, to find some meaning to their petty lives. No matter which sibling they pay homage to, I am the one they seek. I am their drug, their anodyne, their addiction, and their purpose. Amazing what a dance club can do to people, isn't it? The pulsing music, strobbing lights, the heat, the lust, all these combine to create an intoxicating elixir that grips them body and soul.

Then they are mine.

It makes no difference which sibling they worship, they belong to me. I give their formless wishes shape, I'm the one who hears their sobbed requests. They pray to me with their sweat and their little lusts, their hymns are the gyrations of bodies to the driving beat of the music. My temple, staffed by long-forgotten gods and goddesses that I seduced away from my brother's realm. Immortal creatures of passion serving the distant descendants of the grubby little creatures that dreamed them into existence. I find a particular irony in that. Am I cruel, twisting these pathetic mortals like drunken marionettes? My siblings might say so.

But they want it.

Oh yes, these darling little humans that the elder three cherish so very much wantme to hurt them. They wouldn't be here otherwise. Despite the best attempts of my starry-eyed brother to believe otherwise, I do not take my responsibilities lightly. I take pride in my work, the delicate crafting of obsessions, yearnings,

and Desires.

In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Everyday, over and over, I see it played out. Where desires rage, passions destroy, these mortals run rampant throughout this beautiful world clutching everything they can get their greedy hands on. Their desires destroyed my youngest sister. Their dreams killed my brother and their anguish outdid my sister-self. The sweaty creatures will unmake themselves someday, with their fever-visions and angry need. They feel too much, they want too much. They have infected my family with their disease. 

And I let them. Because I don't care.

I have no love for my family. I have no hate for my family. I am Desire and I Desire nothing. There is nothing I crave, nothing I want, so to alleviate my Endless boredom, I play. I craft my games with the infinite patience required of the Family. A great, seductive game of chess with the only opponents worth playing against. 

Ah, my beautiful family. 

My family is my greatest challenge- my greatest work of art. I introduced jealousy and vengeance to my dreamy brother. The intense Desire for revenge against those who had wronged him made him my creature long ago. What are dreams but the desires of the slumbering mind? It takes careful crafting to ensnare the Family. While Morpheus may think I failed those many times, he couldn't be more wrong.

Twist by twist by twist.

Mortals are so much easier. I sing to them a lure of sex, a want of desperate yearning. They don't know what they want or why they want it, but I give it to them. The eternal brass ring on the merry-go-round that they will never reach.

For to live is to Desire. Without me, there is no existence and there is no end. I could follow the path of the Prodigal. Walk away, leave it all behind. Forget about Dream's hatred of me. Shed Death's pity and Destiny's condescending manner. But then there would be no artistry in it, no beauty. 

And Desire must be beautiful, otherwise I would not be Desire.

So I watch. I watch and laugh. Laugh at all my beautiful humans dancing their lives away in my club. I am everywhere tonight. I am smoking at my table in Rome. I am in New York, San Francisco, Minneapolis, Houston. I'm sipping a dry martini in Cairo, kissing a young girl in London, and lounging in the shadows of Hong Kong. Like my eldest sister, I am everywhere and anywhere at once. In the lights of Amsterdam and music of Rio, I laugh. As they dance their lives away, I laugh and laugh and laugh.

And live. 


End file.
